


Li'l Bastard's Revenge

by Pilarcraft



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bart needs a hug, Blackmail, Cussing, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Friendship, Gangsters, Gen, Guns, Homer needs a hug, Mild Hurt/Comfort, OOCness, Vengeful Bart, nonviolent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilarcraft/pseuds/Pilarcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>after he gets into jail for crimes he didn't commit, Bart J. Simpson returns to take revenge on those who did him wrong.<br/>Homer, Lisa, Wiggum, Krusty, Skinner, Burns<br/><i>Everyone</i> in springfield.<br/>they are all going to pay.<br/>but this time, he's doing it by the book</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the following story is based loosely on the //idea// of the classic novel: 'The Count of the Mount Cristo'  
> the theme is a favorite one in fandoms. most of the time its Percy jackson who gets banished/imprisoned/killed/tortured/... for a crime someone framed him. sometimes it's Harry potter.  
> this time, it's Bart Simpson.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as you can see, Bart (who's basically the only important character we've seen so far) is not as funny or easy-going as canon Bart. this version is an idiot who thinks he was imprisoned for no reason. it'll be some time before he can find proof he was actually framed (even if he knows it himself)  
> another thing, the sort of Fourth-wall breaking you saw (if you read this) is something that'll continue.  
> please, comment. every author loves getting comments.  
> until next time.

In the death of night, with the incompetent policemen sleeping at their post, a young man of forty with unruly red hair crept in the shadows. No guard saw him, and no inmate dared report him, for ‘tis the law of outlaws not to snitch.

Very easily he sneaked to the damp cell of his target. His ever-fleeting life-long nemesis. His most unhealthy obsession. The bane of his existence.

The cell was damp and stereotypically filthy, darkness surrounded the only person inside, with only a lightbulb over his head. Inside the cell, a boy of mere eighteen was sitting on a chair, head over the piece of paper he was oh-so-seriously writing on.

When the prisoner saw him, he concentrated on the paper. He used all his mental control not to snap, to look objectively. This was a necessity, and he was curious, nothing more.

Soon, he picked the outdated lock and entered the cell, crept behind the boy, raised his butcher’s knife over his head, and with an evil grin worthy of Dracula himself, he-

“well if it isn’t Robert Terwiliger! Long time no see!” said the boy as he casually swirled his chair (not caring that it is not supposed to be impossible to swirl a prison chair), his usual smirk on his face, even though his eyes didn’t shine as they normally did.

Sideshow bob Growled, “Bart Simpson.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, with Bob sitting on the bottom bunk bed and looking at him, Bart said “why are you here, Bob?”

Bob smirked “why, can’t a man visit an old friend?”

Bart raised an eyebrow. Another thing _she_ was better at, and had never taught him. “with a butcher’s knife, sneaking in the said friend’s room? That’s not how it goes, Bob. I know you don’t leave the knife, but that doesn’t mean other people don’t get worried.”

He stopped, and said “besides, you made quite the effort breaking in. you want something.”

There. There was the genius that had foiled his plans more times that he cared to admit. The genius hidden so elegantly beneath layers and layers of carefully drawn public image. He already knew the underachiever persona was a front, but even he never thought the boy could get rid of it so easily.

“correct, Bart. I’m here to ask an important question.” “I’m listening!” “ **Why are you Here?** ” screamed the criminal mastermind.

Bart looked at him, glancing one of _her_ glares, his posture screaming _I’m tired of your shit, Bob._ And explained slowly, “well, ob. When someone does something bad, or gets framed for it, he either gets here, or gets away with it. I couldn’t get away with it.”

Bob closed his eyes, counting to twenty-five before calming down. It wouldn’t do well to mutilate the boy now.

Then, in clenched teeth, he said “I meant why. What did you do?” “stole from old Monty Burns. I’m sure you remember him.” He paused, and smirked, “well I’ll be damned. I’ll tell you the entire story!

“it was two years ago, just three weeks after my 18th birthday…

* * *

<Bart’s memory>

**_I had no more that five weeks of school left, then I planned to just…wing it. take away after old Homer, get into an impossibly well-paying job without any job requirements, go to work 9to5, and spend the rest of the day by TV or Booze._ **

**_On the day it happened, I was returning home, as usual on my bike, grumbling “lousy Prince, snitching on me…” on the way._ **

**_To be sure, the things I fantasized to do to the condescending fatso were graphically morbid, even for me._ **

**_I finally got to the Evergreen Terrace, riding to 742, my family home, as I’m sure you know by now, Bob, after all these times you’ve tried to kill me._ **

**_Todd Flanders said “hi-dilly-ho, neighbor-eeno!” as he was starting to say, taking away after dear Ned. In true Homer fashion I grumbled “shut up Flanders!” before jumping off my bike, which hit the wall but somehow wasn’t damaged afterwards._ **

**_I hopped on to the door, opened it, and called cheerfully “_ Hel-lo DONUTS! _” at the box homer had left, probably planning to eat later._**

**_Shrugging at the box, I picked one of the donuts and walked to the living room munching on it, to see Lisa stare at me accusingly._ **

**_I shrugged, thinking ‘what have I done now?’, and said “Hey Lis’, what’s with the frowny face?”_ **

**_She said in her annoying accusing tone (that she’d perfected over the years) and asked “did you do it?”_ **

**_Huh? I didn’t know what she meant, and years of dealing with Seymour skinner had left me immune to that type, and many other types, of interrogation. I said nothing, and walked upstairs to my room. Mom grumbled as I walked past her._ **

**_Oh well, probably some prank of Maggie’s gone wrong, and she’s framed me. The girl_ did _have my style in pranking after all._**

**_Which was why I didn’t really think of the clusterfuck I was about to get into._ **

**_Until 9pm sharp (when we normally go to the kitchen, stuff our faces with mom’s cookings, and watch TV until about 11, before we go to sleep). I walked down to the den, only to see chief Wiggum and another cop waiting for me._ **

**_“Bartholomew Jojo Simpson, you are under arrest for a charge of theft, three vandalism of public property, and four car collisions.” Said the chief quickly, not caring about how he worded the charges, “you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you when we haul your ass in jail!”_ **

**_He was keen to put me in jail for some reason. He cuffed me and took me to his old police car, and rode away._ **

**_In front of my Mom, Homer, and my two sisters, who said nothing, just glaring at me accusingly._ **

**_You know, there used to be this thing we called ‘innocent until proven guilty’._ **

<Bart’s Memory is over>

* * *

“and I’ve been in this cell ever since” he said, “i _did_ have a trial, but it was more along the lines of a few people telling a judge about how i was such a prankster and menace for all my life. not even my _family_ showed up, neither did my best friend, who i suppose if he had come, he could actually say that i was with him the last night. i just heard my hearing, and I’ve been here for two years. I’m getting released the next week actually. The police is tired of me sitting in my room when the riots happen.”

Bob said “say, have you ever read the Count of Mount Cristo?” “Nah, not too much into books you see,” “read it. or the first part anyway, I think you have Dantes’ problem.”

Bart rolled his eyes, “and in words a non-literate prankster could understand…” “you’ve been framed by someone.”

Bart gasped, “no way, man! Who would _do_ that?” he asked, before remembering Lisa, Jessica, Homer, Krusty, and Sideshow bob himself. “actually, scratch that”

“no really, I’ve done the whole framing thing. This is amateur level. Someone uses the Simpsons car, probably Homer’s, steals from Burns’ Manor, and in the way he gets carried away with the escape car chase scene. Someone really clumsy or dramatic then. And then he needs a scapegoat. So who better than the boy _everyone_ knows to be a prankster and a menace? This is a small town, they could merely forgo the trial part and just sentence you.”

Bart growled, “Ay Caramba! You’re right! someone _did_ frame me! But who?”

Bob looked at the clock, “well, that seems to be a question you have to answer by yourself. My time here seems to be up, and I have to leave before one of the policemen wakes up!”

And Bart sat on his chair, and began thinking.

Who could _possibly_ frame him?

* * *

A week later, as he was saying his last goodbyes to the few prisoners he cared about, he still was ignorant of the identity of the true culprit. All he knew was he was  _not_ going to let injustice like this continue. He couldn’t do it with all USA, but he could fix Springfield at the least!

Homer had once told him he wasn’t going to watch an old cartoon (that was his favorite back then, even if wouldn’t touch the overly violent show with a 10 foot pole now),until he could become the supreme judge.

He was going to the law school. He would graduate, and he would do it right after his release!

He could already see his business card: ‘Bart J. Simpson, Attorney at Law’

As he left, Bob, now not that hostile to him, said “Simpson, I have a favor to ask” He smiled, “anything, Bob. Just name it” “If, by chance, you actually do become an attorney in Law, tell me so I can hire you”

He raised an eyebrow, “Who would _you_ be filing against?” “that infernal Clown! I’ll ruin him, for life!”

The clown had spent a day in jail, back when Bart was ten. Bob had framed him, and even though he was innocent in that case, the clown was _not_ an innocent man by any standards. Of course back then the idiot that was Bart Simpson had studies law just so he could rescue him (even if he actually did it with pointing out the man couldn’t read). But _now_ , Krusty had lost his position as Bart’s Idol. He’d seen nothing but pain from the clown, and now he could help someone put him behind bars.

Perfect.

“alright Simpson!” said the fat perverted chief, “you’re getting outta here!”

He smiled at the fat bastard (who he was going to enjoy ruining when he could), and said “alright, chief. Will you drop me off home?”

He sneered, “who ‘m I, your Da? Nah buddy! You’re getting off in the nearest bus stop. I’ll call homer for you, but you’ll owe me!”

Three hours later, he was sitting by the bus stop. Wiggum had called Homer, but the man hadn’t arrived yet.

If the 18 years of living with the man had taught him one day, it would be that he was going to wait a _long_ time until homer would arrive.

He didn’t have it in him to be disappointed, or sad, when Homer’s car stopped by the bus stop five hours later, the man (who’d grown back some of his hair) saying in a sheepish tone, “sorry, Son!”

_DON’T CALL ME SON!_


	2. Chapter 2

“Mom! It’s chief wiggum! He says dad’s got to pick Bart up at the out-of-town bus stop!” said Lisa, the book-smart Simpson, to her Mother, Marge, who was watching TV.

The woman jumped at the news, “Really? He’s getting released today? HOMER!” she yelled up at the man in her room who was, as usual, watching TV and eating five bags of snacks at once.

“HOMER!” she called again, to hear a muffled indignant ‘WHAT?’ back. “get up! You’ve gotta pick your _son_ up!” ‘fiiiiine!’

Lisa looked at her, “you _do_ realize he’s not gonna do it, right?” Marge narrowed her eyes, “he’s going to, or there’s no place for him here anymore. Now Remember, Lisa. We have to make amends with him. Help him reconcile with us so he won’t _actually_ do a crime later”

That, as with any mention of Bart’s sentence (or well, lack thereof), or Maggie’s pranks, expressions, and attitude, made Lisa wallow in guilt.

Even if he _had_ actually done it, he was her only brother, and that still hadn’t stopped him from _not_ standing up for the said brother when he needed support most.

She still remembered the day they took Bart away…

* * *

<Lisa’s Memory>

**_She’d already done her homework (and extra-credit works) when Dad had called. Bart was, as usual, in detention and wouldn’t show up until later._ **

**_She had two hours of peace and quiet._ **

**_Which was when Dad called. “Simpson residence, Lisa speaking!” she said automatically, “Lis’? we’ve got a problem.”_ **

**_‘You ran out of beer again?’ she thought, but said “What sort of problem?” “someone thrashed the car. Someone who could get into the garage without a key.”_ **

**_He considered asking about how he hadn’t noticed his car’s state until now, but it would be hopeless.” who did it?” she asked, already fearing the answer, “my guess? The boy!”_ **

**_She sighed, “dad, when are you going to finally stop calling Bart ‘The Boy’?” she complained, “he’s almost an adult now. How would you feel if Grampa still called you ‘the boy’?”_ **

**_Dad didn’t answer for a long time. like he was reviewing something in his head, and said “dang. I’ve gotta hang up! Mr. Smithers is coming this way”_ **

**_She shook her head in affectionate frustration, and sat on the sofa, watching the hundredth rerun of McBain: the complete edition._ **

**_When Bart came it, comically saying ‘_ Hel-lo _donuts!’, she clenched her teeth. Dad was right, he hadn’t changed at all. He was still the rebellious pranking underachiever who was hell-bent on ruining life for her, her family, and everyone else._**

**_Bart hadn’t changed at all. He was still the brat who’d stole the tell-tale head, sold his soul for five bucks, and had made Mr. Skinner and Ms. Krabapple rue the day they became teachers._ **

**_Bart Simpson hadn’t grown up. He hadn’t grown up at all._ **

**_She couldn’t stand looking at the immature brat, who shrugged at her and walked up to his room._ **

**_Which led to Lisa seething where he sat, until Dad returned home, looking a bit pale and nervous._ **

**_Behind him was Ralph’s dad, in his uniform. The man who’d been the police chief ever since Lisa remembered. An abusive father, a comically corrupt officer, and one of the few men who ate (and drank) more than Homer._ **

**_He said seriously, “Marge, Lisa, I have bad news for you” he said, “Bart’s done a real crime”_ **

**_He explained, “he used Homer’s car to go to the Burns’ manor, broke in, stole a bag he thought was full of money, and escaped. During his escape he crashed into four cars and hit the tree over there” he pointed at the tree nearby, one that seemed to be a favorite for car crashing in the entire neighborhood._ **

**_Surprisingly Homer didn’t say anything, no sign of him wanting to throttle the boy or yell any sort of profanity at him, Maggie wasn’t home (The Mayor had decided to donate something to the school and they had gone to Kamp Krusty that day), and Marge was too sad to think actually say anything._ **

**_Buddha knew she looked almost the same as when Bart had been caught shoplifting years ago.  Obviously, that was the first and last time he’d got caught doing that._ **

**_Not only hadn’t Bart grown up, he’d gotten worse! Thievery, even if unsuccessful, was still a crime._ **

**_One Bart would get punished for._ **

**_Thirty minutes later, as wiggum took Bart away, she did all she could not to look at his face._ **

**_This would teach him not to break any more laws. It was for the best._ **

<Lisa’s Memory ends>

* * *

 

or so she thought. For two years, Bart stayed in prison, they never heard of a trial, a hearing, or even an official Verdict, even the over-opportunist that was Lionel Hutz didn’t try to make them hire him as Bart’s lawyer.

To be honest, Lisa always _did_ think that the whole thing with Bart was a bit dodgy, but what she _didn’t_ realize was the fact that Bart was not guilty of that crime.

Which began changing when Milhouse, Bart’s supposed best friend, slipped up and spilled some of the truth. Or his version of it.

* * *

<Lisa’s Memory>

**_“God, I miss Bart some days” said Lisa. After so many months, she could actually talk about her Brother again, without getting a sort of sad twisting in her guts._ **

**_They were actually checking Milhouse’s old comics (some of which were actually Bart’s, based on the labels of ‘Property of Bart Simpson’ he’d put on them. Those Milhouse had borrowed from him over the years, never giving them back), something he and Bart used to do back in the day, sitting and fawning over old ‘Radioactive man’ comics all day long._ **

**_“yeah, reading these books doesn’t have the same feeling without Bart commenting about a villain or something.” He chuckled, “god knows a lot of things haven’t had the same feeling since they hauled him”_ **

**_She looked at him suspiciously, ‘Hauled him’?_ **

**_“yes. Strange thing that,” she said, priding on her acting skills, “they never tried him, just a verdict”_ **

**_Milhouse laughed nervously,_ Bingo! _and said “yeah. He didn’t have a trial. Not at all”_**

**_Oh, there it was. There was something he knew that she didn’t._ **

**_“is there anything you’re not telling me, Milhouse?”_ **

**_He didn’t say anything. Or he tried not to._ **

**_She wasn’t fond of using one of the Eight-Year-Lisa techniques on an adult, not when she was nineteen, but after two hours of interrogation not working, she had to resort to that. “tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me!”_ **

**_Finally, he gave in, “alright. there_ was _a trial. You just weren’t asked to come.” She narrowed her eyes, and said “and you were? Why didn’t you tell me anything? Huh? Huh? Huh?” about three minutes of ‘huh?’-ing later, he said “I didn’t show up either, okay? I was told not to go!”_**

**_“‘told not to go’?” she said incredulously, “why would you not go? What_ change _would it have made?”_**

**_Which was where Milhouse stopped talking, and after that, they never talked of a trial anymore._ **

<Lisa’s Memory Ends>

But that one time was enough. The seeds of doubt had already been planted, and it just needed a little push for her to realize his brother was not guilty of any of the said charges.

And that little push was homer’s professing, saying he’d ruined his car, not Bart.

At that point, Maggie had pointed out “yeah, _Homer_ , we already knew Bart couldn’t be guilty of ruining your car!” Marge and Lisa exclaimed “we did?”

She rolled her eyes, “yeah, morons! Bart was with Prince that night, they were working on Bart’s grades and he hadn’t even come home!”

_Crap_ , was her expression at that. With that, Maggie huffed and left the room (the thirteen-year-old girl was even worse than Bart at that age. At least Bart had the decency of not doing something like that), Homer left Upstairs, taking advantage of the debacle and getting scot free. Mom was the worse.

She had gone to the exact state she had when Bart had swallowed the razor piece from Krusty’s cereals (looking back now, they had a _lot_ of stories back when Bart was ten), and she hadn’t believed him to be ill.

And Lisa, she had begun wallowing in the guilt again.

* * *

And now, before she had time to pull herself together, Homer finally arrived with Bart.

“Marge, Lisa! We’re Home!” called Homer as he opened the door.

When he opened the door, a young man with long blond hair, a permanent scowl and clenched jaw followed him inside. The man, a little taller than Homer himself, was nothing like the Bart he remembered. He was fit, he had an intelligent glint in his eyes, and he wasn’t smirking or fidgeting or doing any other Bart-ish thing.

He had an impressive poker face on, and was careful not to look at marge or Lisa, only looking at her younger sister, Maggie.

“hello, Simpsons!” he said. “good to be back”

And with that four words, she already knew they had a _long_ way to go before Bart saw them as family again.

_She_ had a long way to go before he would call her sister again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter with Lisa in.  
> I love lisa as a character, but sometimes i hate her. she's a self-righteous prick who'd shove her idea down your throat and make you hate life if you didn't believe in her ideals.  
> she is a horrible sister, even though we've seen a _hundred_ shows of affection between Lisa and Bart, she's not really a good sister (of course, neither is bart, but he's not _supposed_ to be good in any moral thing. that's what Lisa tells everyone she is). she has framed bart for several pranks he hadn't commited (and some of them, of course, were commited by Lisa Herself), she's left him hanging when he needed medical attention, he's basically a condescending jerk to him, and she almost _never_ supports him when he needs it most.  
>  i don't hate her, but i hate some of her personality, even as i hate some of Homer's, Marge's, Bart's and a lot of others too.   
> but i may or may not have gotten carried away with it. if it was Lisa Bashing, it wasn't my intention.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, the following method will probably _not_ work on a person with a nervous breakdown. it's just a smash-up of a few methods, and as Bart claims, it's just some figurative duct tape you put on a person who's about to have a nervous breakdown, so that a _professional_ (and that means a psychiatrist) can actually solve the problem.  
>  also, manipulation might seem useful, but it's always followed by bad effects. if you have it in you to do something for the better of someone else, even if they'll never trust you again, use it.  
> The Simpsons are cartoon characters, many of the things they do (and i mean that in the most serious manner, not the stunts bart performs, etc.) shouldn't be done in real life.

“hey son, uh…how was jail?” asked homer, right before thinking _D’oh!_ , Bart looked at him with a mild glare, but said nothing.

“I’m…I’m sorry I was late- “Bart scoffed, but he tried to ignore it, “chief Wiggum called me just an hour ago” Bart interrupted, “I was here when he called you, Simpson” he said hollowly, “just …stop, alright?”

He said under his breath, “not like it’s the _first_ time you’re late picking me up at something.”

He didn’t _want_ homer to hear it, but the man did anyway, and that once again reminded him he was an idiot.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but then he quietly admitted “I’m sorry I didn’t show up at your trial, son”

That was a _wrong_ thing to say, Bart coldly said “but you’re not sorry about not visiting me even _once_ , are you?” he continued, “not sorry for leaving me in prison and forgetting you had a son until it was once again your _job_ to take care of me” he chuckled bitterly, “stop pretending you care, homer. It got old eight years ago.”

Of course Bart wasn’t that sad or angry about it, he’d gotten used to it when Homer left him waiting in the rain for his Dad to pick him up eight years ago, when Homer had gotten busy listening to Lisa recite a poem for her literature test.

But homer didn’t need to know that.

He wanted to see if he was capable of actually feeling guilty.

But the result was not what he’d intended. Homer looked at him, almost liking like he wanted to throttle him, but then started crying.

Homer J. Simpson, the man he used to call father, the only Simpson who he knew could remain joyful at any occasion, was crying.

Bart had seen his father in many moods: angry, cheerful, depressed, nervous, furious, even dead tired, he’d seen him laugh and yell and shout and stutter, but in all these years, not once had he seen him crying.

And he couldn’t help. He was never good at counseling others. Just cheering up (or at least he used to be able to), or infuriate. He could do none of them to cheer his dad up.

He could do nothing but watch.

Homer sobbed, “I’m sorry Bart. Please…please…if you don’t forgive me, just…don’t hate _them_! They didn’t even know you had a trial”

And neither did he, actually. At least not until after it was all done.

Because it was never supposed to end that way. In truth, not only _Bart_ but also _Homer_ didn’t know the depth of the crime Bart had gotten framed for.

* * *

<Homer’s Memory>

**_“Hey, Homer!” said chief wiggum, the fat policeman, as he was drinking a mug of beer in Moe’s. “How are you? How’s family?”_ **

**_Homer looked at him non-responsively, wiggum wasn’t a stranger, but he hadn’t been particularly friendly before. He was more of a social ninja, creeping in the background, until there was money and/or free food involved. Then he would be the dutiful cop first in the scene of crime._ **

**_“hey chief- “before he could say anything, Chief wiggum said “say, can you let me borrow your car? I’ll return it tomorrow!”_ **

**_Considering the fact half of the evergreen terrace had heard the man, he couldn’t not return it, and besides, Homer wasn’t that stingy. He shrugged, “alright. just return it tomorrow”_ **

**_But the next day, Wiggum called him at one o’clock.  “oh, hey Simpson. I’ve got bad news for you”_ **

**_Homer replied worriedly, “What’s happened, is it Abe? Or- ““it’s your_ car _dumbass! “the chief cop snapped, “your car’s been trashed! I had a little accident”_**

**_Homer said “what? But what do I do now?” “blame it on someone_ else! _”_**

**_Homer narrowed his eyes, “blame it on someone else? You mean to ask me to_ lie _to my family that an innocent man had an accident while driving my car?” “oh I’m not asking you Simpson, I’m_ telling _you! I_ will _pay for your car,” he said, homer thinking (more like you’re make us taxpayers to pay for your mistakes) and the chief continued, “but I’m not gonna lose my badge for this. Just blame it on your boy! Everyone’ll fall for it!”_**

**_Unfortunately, he_ was _right. he couldn’t say he’d lent his car to the worst cop (and driver) in town, and let him ruin it. that would make him lose face in front of his own family again. and that wouldn’t do._**

**_What was ironic was the fact his boy, even at_ ten _was a better driver that half the population of Springfield._**

**_After two hours of struggle, the weak-willed homer called how, and lied to his own_ daughter _about the car._**

**_But even_ he _couldn’t’ve guessed Chief would_ arrest _an innocent boy for a crime he himself had committed._**

**_And_ burglary _? That wasn’t Bart’s MO. His son might’ve been a prankster and occasionally a troublemaker, but he was no thief!_**

<Homer’s Memory ends>

* * *

Bart listened to homer sob and cry for a long time. until he couldn’t take it anymore. He snapped “stop the car, Simpson” in a tone he knew his father had become conditionally to ten years ago.

Homer broke his sob, “yes sir!”, Bart continued in the same tone, careful of the nuances so they would be like Mr. Burns’, “stop the car at your Favorite Pub. You clearly need a bottle or two before you calm down”

Fortunately, homer had always been quite predictable, he stopped listening after the promise of beer at Moe’s, and drove there/

The Simpson family could wait for another hour

If there was one thing Homer was good at, it was holding his beer, Lord knows they would’ve all died if he wasn’t the _best_ at getting drunk by choice and choice alone.

Five bottles of Duff beer later, he was still quite sober, of course Bart hadn’t drunk (someone needed to be able to drive), but all that beer had cheered him up a bit.

When he was calmed to a degree, Bart said “now listen up, Simpson. When we return home, you’re going to be as cheerful as ever. No shows of sadness, no shows of crying. You will be _Homer Simpson,_ the homer Simpson we all know and love!”

His father said sullenly,” alright son”

He sighed, “ _no_! that’s exactly what I said you shouldn’t do!” he grabbed the man’s head, making him look into his eyes. Fortunately, he was a regular, and Moe wouldn’t interrupt. “you’re not a horrible father, you’re not an awful man! Stop _acting_ you are!”

The older man said “But you just said- ““I’m your _son,_ godddammit! It’s part of the job description to say things like that! If I ever say that, know that no matter what I say, I _don’t mean it!_ ” “but that don’t mean it isn’t true! My only example of raisin’ a son was Abe, and I’ve been as horrible to you as he was to me! And I was improvising with Lisa” he sighed, saying dejectedly, “I’ve been the worst father a kid could have!”

Bart closed his eyes and counted to ten. This wasn’t good. After all these years, Homer was finally cracking, and who _knew_ what happened if he had a nervous breakdown right here.

“no, Dammit! Listen to me!” he said, “you _may_ have been a less-than-spectacular father to me and Lisa, but you still have a teenage daughter to raise! You _can_ be a better to father, can’t you?”

Homer’s eyes shone at the mention of Maggie.

To be honest, Maggie _had_ always been homer’s favorite, the one he let get away with anything. He _was_ still working at the plant for her after all.

Bart smiled inwardly. This wasn’t a good technique. Not something a psychiatrist or a psychologist would use, but he didn’t have time. he had to just put duct tape on the crack, until a professional could check it. and not the horrible quote-psychiatrist-unquote that lived in Springfield.

Homer was regaining some of his self-confidence, “now. We can’t let mom and the kids to see you crying, can we?”

That did it.

Even Bart had to agree, despite all his faults, Homer Simpson was a true family guy. He loved his family and did anything he could to keep them happy. He was, even if they didn’t realize it, the pillar to their little family.

Heaven knows how bad they’d broke down that one night he was too angry to return home with them and had to go on an inter-state trip until he cooled down.

He sighed deeply, chugged down the last bottle, paid for the drinks, and got into the car.

This time, Bart was driving.

Before they could reach home, homer asked soberly, “hey son, can you find it in yourself to ever forgive me?”

Bart closed his eyes, “I’ll try, dad. I’ll try”

Homer shrugged inwardly. That was the best he was going to get.

Bart parked the car and they got out. Homer, now completely sober, took the lead, “marge, Lisa! We’re home!”

He had a family to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a few things here:  
> 1) Homer is a family man. that's been stressed as one of his few _completely_ good personality traits all the series. he might be a bit of an asshole to his son a bit dumb towards his daughter, but there is _no_ boundries he wouldn't break if they needed him. (and considering he's got no other good traits, that's sometihng)  
>  2) trust me, even if you seem to hate them with _all_ your heart, there's no way you would _enjoy_ hearing your family cry. even the most heartless of people would enjoy such a thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that if i write anything Psychological here, you shouldn't really pay much attention to it.  
> it's just necessary for hurt/comfort.  
> if, by chance, you're a psychologist (or psychiatrist), please suppose Springfield exists in another realm, and these stuff (which probably wouldn't work for real people) work for them.  
> and if, by chance, i'm actaully telling stuff that are right, please inform me. it would be great for my self-confidence :D
> 
> (on a completely unrelated note)  
> Lisa is not smarter than bart. we already know Bart used to have good grades before Lisa started going to school, at which point Bart started to get worse. my theory is that he saw Lisa's social state, and decided he'd rather have friends than act smart. if you think about it, some of his prank plans are military degree.

“Hello Simpsons” said Bart coldly. God, he didn’t know how to feel about the Simpsons now.

The Simpson residence was still the same. The same sofa, couch, flooring, table. Hell, even the TV was the same thing homer had bought five years ago.

The only changes were in Lisa and Maggie.

Maggie now looked exactly like thirteen-year-old Bart (if he were a girl). All she wore was a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, Apart from the mischievous, longing glint in her eyes.

Ah, ‘sweet, innocent’ Maggie, always looking too cute to be a menace. Of course Bart knew better, she _had_ almost killed Mr. Burns before, and no one but Bart knew she wasn’t as innocent as the now-closed case report claimed.

And then there was Lisa, now almost as tall as Bart. She’d lost the dress for a casual jeans and t-shirt, straightened her long, blonde hair. Still had those eyes that shone with intelligence and the almost involuntary look of ‘you’re too much of a boy for me to take seriously’ on her face.

And finally there was mom. Marge Simpson, who still looked like she did ten years ago. her dear naïve spoilsport overprotective mother who’d so easily condemned him for so many things all his life.

He continued “good to be back”

Even with his tone and glare, he still couldn’t stop mom from running at him, hugging and kissing him on the cheeks, exclaiming how she missed her ‘special little guy’.

* * *

Lisa was ashamed of saying this, but prison had taught Bart something mum and dad never could. Manners.

He calmly sat on his chair, eating the homemade pork chops, so calm and slow, clearly enjoying every last bite. If this was how they acted at the prison, it was no wonder all the criminals were such gentlemen. If a bit murderous. 

Probably part of this calm eating was due to the awkward silence that had fell in the kitchen.

Mum and Maggie stole sneaky looks at him, clearly wanting to talk, but not knowing how to start the conversation. The fact Bart had been looking at his plate the entire time didn’t help.

The last time Bart had been like this, it was the first few weeks after everyone (except her) had sided with Jessica Lovejoy at the whole church-felony fiasco.

He hadn’t looked at them, played any kinds of pranks at them, or even snapped and bit at them. His grades had improved, and his under-achiever persona had vanished into thin air.

At the time, Lisa had been happy for him. thinking he was _finally_ changing for the better, but after years (actually, right after she opened her first psychology book) she’d understood what it meant. To leave the public persona meant not to care about what society thought about him. and it was the first degree of snapping. If he had continued to be that way, he would eventually not care about the laws, norms, and taboos either. 

It might’ve been a bit hypocritical of her, but not caring what society thought of him was unhealthy for Bart.

Last time, it’d been over in three months. Who knew how long it would take _this time?_

Finally, Lisa couldn’t take it anymore, “Bart…” she said, “we’re sorry about not being there for you when you needed us”

He ‘hmm’-ed dismissively, not even looking at her, she tried again, “we’re sorry we didn’t believe it you”

Still nothing

“sorry we’ve disappointed you”

At this point, Lisa’s frustration grew stronger, hesitating no longer she said “please, say something!”

He turned his head towards her, eyes narrowed and expression as venomous as the one he had on Milhouse’s horrible thirteenth birthday (he wouldn’t even say her name for two years, calling it ‘the L-word’, though what she’d said _was_ horrible, if true), but he still stayed silent for a few more minutes.

“you’re not sorry about that” he said finally, “not really” he chuckled bitterly. “you’re just feeling uncomfortable at me not being the same person I used to be”

“no, Bart…I- “she tried, but he interrupted, still talking monotonously, “you’re not sorry about believing me, you’ve just some self-guilt over the fact you’ve gone too far” he chuckled, “not that I blame you. I’m just the boy who cried wolf after all”

(3) Mom said “now Bart, don’t be too hard on your- “NO _MOM! Just stop before he-_

Bart rose thunderously, “you’re not really sorry. None of you are! I _did_ notice none of you paying me a visit even _once_ in three years. Not worrying about sending me to the place where there were three _Murderously psychopathic_ criminals who had a bone to pick with me! You’re not sorry about anything, Simpsons. You’re just feeling some misplaced guilt!”

He turned around, “at least stop thinking I’m some idiot who can’t tell when people lie _in my face!_

and said with a sickly sweet tone, “may I be excused?”

and without waiting for a response from the shell-shocked Simpsons, he left, walking towards his room.

At which point Maggie said “crap”

Marge automatically said “language, Maggie!” but Lisa understood.

He wasn’t going to be happy when he saw his room. She rose quickly, running after his brother.

But she was too late.

Bart was looking at the room that used to be his. 

* * *

It was empty. His old room, full of mementoes and things he’d held dear. His old sanctuary, the place that once was _his_ place of thinking, planning, escaping, and resting. It had been reduced to a plain guestroom. A plain bed in the middle, a PC and printer on a desk and their old TV in front of the bed.

There was no sign of his clue-board. The one he’d scavenged from the Police HQ once, when Bob had hidden in the city and the police were too incompetent to catch him. (like almost always, _he_ was the one to catch him in the end)

No sign of his desk, full of _his_ junk, those that had made the room **his**. No sign of the rock band posters, or his own paintings, those he’d drawn himself.

No sign of his painting vessel either.

This wasn’t _his_ room anymore, and by the state of the dust on everything, it hadn’t been used by others either…not for at least three years.

They really _had_ abandoned him.

He couldn’t do anything. his feet couldn’t move, his head couldn’t turn, and he couldn’t do anything but look hatefully at the room that was, not, nothing more than another sign that HE DIDN’T BELONG

* * *

The similarities were uncanny. Bart looked like a fitter blond version of Homer when his in the white anger. He was shaking furiously; his fists were clenched so strong his finger-heads were pale. His breathing was ragged and shallow.

And she’d seen homer when he got to that stage. Bart wouldn’t hit her, he had that bit of self-control, but that was it.

Without making a sound, she slowly walked towards him. this had to be done right, or they’d lose him forever.

She crept towards him, and raised a hand to put on his shoulder, when he said in a barely-controlled tone, “I’ve been on my guard for Bob ever since I was Ten, Lisa. You can’t sneak up on me”

She said weakly,” it wasn’t my intention, Bart-“ “then leave. I want to be alone."

In nine out of ten cases, that means you should _not_ leave, just sit somewhere in the near vicinity of the patient, and just _be_ there for them, if they need a shoulder to cry on or a silent listener they can talk to.

So, as her psychology book had said, she sat nearby, looking at his brother and praying to all entities she could name that this wasn’t one of the rare ones that weren’t so.

After thirty minutes of silence, he said in a quiet tone, “hey, Lis’” beaming at the returning of the old nickname, she raised her head.

He continued, “do you still plan on going to Yale?” “yes, why?”  “I’m coming with you” “how come?

“I’m gonna become an attorney in Law”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) i always wondered why all the criminals in the city (at least the ones who appeared regularly I.e. Snake and Bob) acted like gentlemen. i mean Come ON, Bob is a better politician than the Mayor!
> 
> 2) unfortunately, what i said was right. losing the public identity you forge for others is the first step to become a   
> full-blown sociopath.
> 
> 3) My biggest problem with Marge is that she doesn't even know what she's apologizing for (which was a reason i Hated Thor back in Thor 1 (who basically says 'stop being a c*nt, just accept my apology, even if i don't care what i'm apologizing for.')  
> (I.E. 'Colonel Homer', when marge blows at homer in front of the whole theater (after he's probably has had a stressful day of work, and dealt with the torturers that are Bart and Lisa), basically tells him no one cares what he thinks, and then 3 hours later, apologizes, saying 'if it makes you feel any better most of what they threw at you splattered on me.'. like _that's_ the important thing here.)
> 
> 4) while i know it's quite childish, most people have a nostalgic feeling about their childhood rooms. there's a reason most mothers leave their son's room the same when they go to war (for them to return). to see it changed...it doesn't really help when you're already angry and just waiting for a reason to explode.
> 
> 5) what i named as 'white anger' has no relation to the 'angry white man' stereotype. i named it like that because i don't know the actual name. but i've seen it before. it's the last stage of anger, when you can't care to yell, shout, cry or even hit sometihng (most of which won't actually help, BTW. just help you vent, but won't take away the _reason_ , which remains there until someone mentions it again, and then all the anger returns.
> 
> 6) 'in nine out of cases' is a bit of exageration, but as Lisa once said, Cartoons don't have to be 100% realistic. neither do Fanfic stories. but it's basically true. leaving someone who says 'i just wanna be alone' is never a good idea. (unless they have a chainsaw and are willing to use it. at which point you should leave)
> 
> 7)i really hope the whole Lisa bashing stops. i don't hate the character, but i'm pretty sure Bart would, at least in a case like this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o, poor Bart. he _really_ thinks its easy.  
>  he's still just the ten year old who'd trick an entire church into singing 'in-a-gadda-da-vida' as a Hymn for 17 minutes...

“you want to be a what?” asked Lisa, looking a bit shocked at the declaration.

“I want to study law, in a good university. You’re already planning to go to Yale. I’ll come with you.”

It took all Lisa’s self-control not to snap at him, as soon as he said that, she knew he would ruin university for her. An immature prankster Tping the hell out of the classrooms, instead of studying like he was supposed to.

And she was sure he would be just that, but then she saw the glint of grim determination in his eyes. He was serious about this.

He actually wanted to become a lawyer.

But…why?

“but why?” she asked, he smirked “I’m not going to let what happened to me happen to anyone else. Springfield is almost rotten to the core, and I’m gonna fix it.”

“but _how?_ Bart, our city’s a small community, almost everyone knows each other. How are you going to change it?”

He said acidly, “where’s the girl who wanted to stop the parade because she’d found out Jeremiah Springfield was a fraud?” he narrowed his eyes, “please don’t tell me you’ve gone native too”

At which point Lisa dropped her head. That was exactly what’d happened. “don’t you remember our talk about smarts?” “of course I do, that was one of our few heart-to-heart talks ever since I discovered rock bands.” And then he nodded, “anyway, _yes_. This city needs to be fixed. Even at ten we knew Quimby’s motto was ‘extreme corruption’, Wiggum accepted bribes and skinner embezzled the school funds. Our future, our _children_ ’s future, needs to be better than that.”

She shrugged, “but what can _you_ do?” he smirked, “I can become the attorney! We already know Hutz is a stupid man who can’t tell left from right, and Burnham sells his business to the highest bidder.” He huffed, “and after what happened to me, I’m _not_ gonna let anyone else do my job.” With that comment, he said “I might need to buy me a new house too. God knows I’m not welcome here anymore”

And walked to the bathroom, hoping there was an unused toothbrush for him to use.

* * *

The next day, Maggie, who’d heard Bart’s declaration the night before, came to Bart’s room eight in the morning, planning to wake him up the same way they used to back when they were younger.

Before she could, however, Bart said from under his bed wrap, “don’t even try it, Maggie”, he yawned, “just a minute. I’ll be up”

Three minutes and a half later (she took these stuff literally) a casually dressed Bart Simpson said to her sister,” what is it, then?”

She said “how’re you going to go to Yale? You wouldn’t be a scholarship student, you know!” she rolled her eyes, “you’ve don’t get that kind of marks” he nodded, “I’m pretty sure I have college fund somewhere, if that’s not enough, I can always nag at homer”

Maggie said “oh please, Dad doesn’t have that kind of money”

He laughed, “I find your lack of deduction skills disturbing, sis. Let me tell you what _I_ think”

He raised a finger, “Drinks: Homer’s been drinking quality beer every night ever since he was a highschooler. He always hangs out at Moe’s tavern, the owner of which is famous for his overpriced drinks.

If they gave us bills to the amount we drunk, Homer’s wouldn’t be calculable by man”

Then, he raised another finger, “homer’s adventures: unless it’s for a worthy cause, homer always has money to do anything. Buy a pool, buy a caravan, annual trips to highly overpriced amusement parks! Now I know that by itself isn’t much, but something like that wouldn’t be possible to have by a low-paying job.”

“ooh, and most important of them all. Ever since Lisa learned reading, we’ve tried to sue a _lot_ of people. Krusty, Skinner, Mr. Burns, even Mr. Meyers. Our lawyer was an idiot named Lionel Hutz, who demanded outrageous prices as payment upfront, and then lost the suit anyway. If he had money for it _then_ , we have money for it now that Dad’s got Smithers’ job.

Then, he said “so you see, dad earns more money than you could think of, and I really suspect he still gets royalties from his old Barbershop quarter too. He _can_ pay for it, and I’m going to make him.”

He shrugged, “my name _was_ an anagram for Brat, why shouldn’t I be one?”

Then he began walking to the front door, Maggie asked “where’re you going?”

“to the high school. It’s high time I finally graduated high school.” He smirked, “let’s see who’s really smarter, Me, or Lisa”

* * *

Seymour skinner was slacking off in his office, relaxing in the middle of the school day. Even though being the principal of a high school was hard, he couldn’t help feel it’d lost a log of its hardships ever since that no good Simpson menace had dropped out.

No more pranks, no more school property damaged, no people hurt in one of his stupid schemes. No revolts, disruptions or anything of the sort.

The school was peaceful without Bart Simpson.

Which, of course, was exactly when he decided to show up

An alarm went off, and from the school’s intercom device said old willie, “principal skinner, a boy wan’s ta see ye!”

He called “Who is it, willie?” “says he’s Bartholomew Simpson, sir”

He sighed. There went his peace and quiet. “send him up, willie. Send him up”

Fifteen seconds later, a tall young man with long hair and athletic body walked unto his room, “principal skinner”

“Simpson,” he sighed, “what do you want here?”

He smirked that annoying smirk of his and said “I want to take the senior year final exams sir,” “absolutely not!” said the old ‘nam veteran

Simpson said “but sir, I just want to- ““ _no!_ you didn’t show up for the finals, you didn’t show up for the summer exams! You’re not gonna graduate!”

He narrowed his eyes, “are you telling me I have to take senior year again?” he smirked, before pacing his slingshot up, and looking at it nonchalantly.

It was just amazing what an innocent child’s weapon could do to the war-hardened principal.

The Indians might’ve threw hatchets to declare war, but his drawing of the thrice-damned weapon (that had made him ban anything that could be used as a weapon by Bart) was even worse! It was blackmail, persuasion and threatening all at once.

“well, then I might begin ‘studying’ again…” he said, still inspecting his old pranking partner.

He wasn’t going to use it, of course. There were _way_ better ways to ruin life for a school principal.

Skinner might’ve been a war veteran and a POW-camp returnee, but he sure as hell wasn’t _that_ unreasonable.

“alright. you can take them. All of them. And if you pass, you can just get the hell outta here! Just tell me the courses you took”

And if he wasn’t going to pass, Seymour would make sure he did, all by himself.

* * *

Five hours and forty-five minutes later, Bart Simpson returned with the stack of paper, and dropped it on the man’s desk. “here’s the lot of them, sir! Can I have them graded today?”

He knew schools didn’t work that way. There was actually a long process involved. But If there was one thing he’d learned in this shit-hole of a school, it was that everything could be done with the enough amount of persuasion. In this instance, it was the option of having Bart in the school against letting him graduate, like he should’ve. Like the last time, the principal did the right thing.

An hour later, he received his last report card. Six As, three Bs, and a C.

Better than all his other results, still not as good as Lisa’s, but he _had_ taken the exams without any pre-studying. What did he know, he could solve differential calculus and stoichiometric chemistry problems by general knowledge!

A few minutes later, after receiving his certification as a high school graduate, he walked away out, whistling the theme of ‘in-a-gadda-da-Vida’ as he walked home.

And who would he see in the way, but his best friend?

Yes, Milhouse Van houten looked at him and said nervously, “ _Bart?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as it happens, Bart doesn't know law school doesn't work that way (and i suspect he won't until he goes to sign up, and they tell him he's gotta take the exam first. and what a hard exam _that_ will be...)  
>  he also doesn't care that schools don't work that way.  
> or at least, they're not supposed to. but the principals also aren't supposed to be embezzling bastards who've basically let the school to ruin. i mean _honestly_ , if i had a teacher like Ms. Krabapple, even at the fourth grade, i'd revolt,  
> and this is a quoting from the episode 'Lisa's Sax', said by principal skinner: 'Ms. Phipps, the school nurse, who will provide ointments and unguents, and Jimbo, the school bully, who will administer noogies and nipple twisters.'.   
> now i know this is just a show, and from 1997, but that doesn't mean bullying should be condoned, let alone thought of as a norm in the school.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SSU stands for Springfield State University, a fictional university that supposedly exists in the same state as springfield, and is located near it, out of the city limits (and therefore probably out of the trappucinno barrier (which is the lines that the giant dome left around springfield after homer and bart destroyed it))  
> it probably isn't canon, and is a favorite university to use as the cop-out on where the characters went for greater education.

Huh. Milhouse hadn’t changed much. He was still a tall scrawny geek with blue hair and geek glasses. Now majoring physics in SSU, which was ironically located in Shelbyville.

The lack of bullies had helped him, he didn’t have that sense of dread and he didn’t look like he was ready to get punched any minute.

Not that nelson deserved it, but Bart was ready to bet all he had that geeks and nerds all around Springfield were partying over the fact he couldn’t torment them anymore

Actually, Nelson _did_ deserve it. he was a mouse-brained idiot with overgrown muscles that hadn’t stopped enjoying the misery of others, even after hundreds of times he’d been publicly humiliated himself. The only thing he’d didn’t deserve was to pass the senior year.

Van houten was a bit nervous to see him. most of the time, this look meant he’d done something terrible that would ruin their friendship, and he was nervous about Bart’s reaction. Things not inviting him to his birthday party, or claiming his sister was the ‘dearest Simpson in the party!’. As he’d done in his thirteenth birthday party.

Bart rolled his eyes at the memory. How _petty_ and childish he’d been back then.

He chuckled “hello Milhouse! How _nice_ of you to finally pay your best friend a visit!”

Milhouse gulped, and shook his head, “no, Bart- I” he interrupted, “and how _nicer_ of you to show up in my ‘trial’, and explaining my innocence!” he shook his head, “truly, you’re the most loyal friend a guy could ever have!”

“b-b-Bart, you’ve got it all wrong!” he said, “I wasn’t allowed to come! Neither was martin, who could have explained you were at his house all night, The other side of town! Chief wiggum came to my house and said he’d arrest me for assisting a known criminal if I actually showed up in the trial!” Bart raised an eyebrow, alright. so Milhouse wasn’t guilty of disloyalty. He was just plain dumb.

“and you believed that?  
Milhouse said indignantly, “I’m not Lisa, alright! I don’t study law just to show up on a small court for a single case! I thought he could do that!” so why didn’t you tell anyone else?” “because by the time I found out he couldn’t do it; I’d also realized I had no choice! I had no witnesses, he could easily claim plausible deniability, and get away with it! be honest, who do you think people believe? A high-school graduate or the city’s police chief?”

“well, considering the things I’ve seen form wiggum- “Bart said, but then paused, “alright. I get it. the jury wouldn’t believe you anyway. Not without a _very_ good lawyer on your side. And none of them take the side that doesn’t have more money.” He sighed. All the more reason for him to study law.

But first, it was time he reconciled with Milhouse. “say, how about we go to a pub? Catch up after these years. You know!” Milhouse looked a bit skeptical, “it’s on me, dude!”

Doing that, he could also catch up with his mob buddies. He was pretty sure fat tony still remembered the boy who’d served him Manhattan eleven years ago.

God, did he have a _lot_ of adventures back then

* * *

The Gentlemen’s club was still as dusty as ever, the newest Bartender was a man who Bart and Milhouse knew as ‘Bart’s Doppelganger’ or Lester, who seemed to have the same looks, hobbies, accent and build as Bart. They’d met first when he and her sister (who was also called ‘Lisa’s Doppelganger’ or Eliza) had saved Itchy and scratchy studios after some story with the original creator, reunited Krusty with his estranged wife and helped Apu out after he’d been arrested for public nudity.

Over the years, the two had become friends, seeing Lester was as good in the art of pranking as Bart was, but Bart couldn’t help feel a hollow pain in his chest.

Was _this_ to be his fate had he graduated with everyone else?

Milhouse waved at Lester, “ooh, look! It’s Lester! Let’s go say hi!”

The two walked straight to the bar, where the young bartender was arguing with a stereotypically dressed Mobster from another gang.

“now lis’n up, pretty boy!” said the main in white coat, “I asked for information, I’ma get information!”

“sir, I’ve already told you, I don’t know who you’re looking for” “shaddap! Look at this photo ‘n tell me if you’ve seen da guy!” the drunken lowlife told him, aiming a hand pistol at the bartender’s head.

Bart whispered to Milhouse, “let’s see if they remember me!” and took a few steps forwards, before yelling “yo!” the gangster turned, “mess with someone yer own size!” he said in a tone he’d know the man would understand.

The gangster didn’t. he said confusedly, “who’re you?”, which apparently was the question of every other man or woman in the bar as well.

He said with a daring tone he’d perfected in high school, “oh, I’m just some guy who served them Manhattan once”

A mobster frowned “Manhattan boy?” another said “the one who got me rich in horse-gamblin’?”

Fat tony said “cover him, boys! he’s one of ours!”

That was something they understood. Even though they’d all left him when he was in trial, they were still the same guys who wanted to kill Skinner because he’d ‘mess with their boy’. They all rose, aiming several guns at the mobster. “get the hell outta here, buddy!”

The man got the memo and holstered his gun, before growling at Bart and leaving.

Tony said “Bart Simpson!” and drew his hand for a shake. Bart shook it, saying “Marion Anthony D’Amico! Long time no see!”

* * *

“hey, Bart! You never told me you were buddies with the local mob boss!” said Milhouse, two hours later, as they finally left the Gentleman’s Club. He smirked, “that’s a long story, Milhouse!”

He stretched and yawned, and said “remember that one time I went to trial for killing sinner?” a bypasser looked at them, and took a step back. “you know, the one that ended up with skinner showing in the trial himself” Milhouse nodded, “I’d met them a few months back, when they made me mix them some drinks” he sighed, “I basically became an honorary member. But I called it quits after the trial”

Milhouse said “That doesn’t explain how he’s friendly with you. Didn’t you flip him off after the trial?”

Bart smiled nostalgically, “as it happens, you can’t leave mob alive. And they decided not to kill me. Contacted me a few years ago, after I saved one of Tony’s men.” He winced, “And the last time I ever punched a guy. _God_ that Chinese guy punched hard.”

After they finally said their goodbyes, Bart returned home, to see Maggie and mom by the TV and Lisa in her room, pre-reading one of her politics textbooks.

He walked to his room, and looked at his clue board.

He had a new case now

‘ _who framed Bart Simpson?_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright  
> after the end of the next two chapters (one of which is a filler and the other is an interlude ( a flashback to a memory of Bart's childhood)), i'll have to put this story on pause until i have the next arc ready.  
> so there might be a few days (or weeks) of wait.  
> until then, have fun with your lives.


	7. Chapter 7

Dressed casually, Bart looked at his old clue board. The words ‘Who framed Bart Simpson’ written on its top.

Just like old times, back when bob used to escape prison every once in a while, he was walking around the room, thinking.

As an impressionable pre-teen, he always acted like a TV detective in these sort of things, and that had stayed with him over the years.

Making sure the door was locked and closed, he began thinking loudly, “what we know: on march 15 2015, Chief Clancy Wiggum arrived at the Simpson Residence, and arrested me for a charge of theft, three vandalism of public property, and four car collisions. On May 9 2015 I had a trial without any defending attorney. Without anyone on my side, and without the right to defend myself, I was found guilty of all charges, and sentenced to three years in Springfield state prison.”

He pinned a photo of Chief wiggum and one of himself. Then he said “by dad’s confession, they didn’t get any letter to attend the trial.” He continued “by report of Milhouse, Chief Wiggum banned _him_ to come to the trial. Martin didn’t show up either, for some reason.” he pinned a photo of Milhouse to the board, and drew a line from wiggum to Milhouse.

“hypothesis, martin and the Simpsons were banned by wiggum, or an accomplice.” He shrugged, “probably just wiggum”

And connected martin and the Simpsons to Wiggum too.

Then, he thought again, “by wiggum’s words, the car was thrashed in the escapade, and nothing of value was stolen from Mr. Burns. Hypothesis, the actual culprit was clumsy, and couldn’t see well in the dark. Conclusion, it’s not homer or anyone of _my_ family. Suspicion, it’s wiggum”

Then, he snapped, “ _no, no NO!_ this is all _wrong_!” he cursed, “this thing can’t be solved now. There isn’t much evidence and information. Conclusion, search for more clues!”

He sighed, before chuckling and hiding the clue board again.

Maybe next time.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the other side of town, well distanced from the evergreen terrace and its happy (-ish?) residents, a policeman was walking towards the town hall, where they gathered around for making decisions (which meant choosing from a set of pre-decided options, until marge Simpson didn’t accept and gave another (admittedly better but impossible) option.)

A young redheaded woman sitting behind a desk smiled at him, “Chief wiggum, Mayor Quimby will see you now!”

He rolled his eyes and entered the room, Quimby was sitting on his chair behind his desk, the seal of ‘Corruptus in Extremis’ stood before him, the man had definitely taken corruption to an extreme.

Sadly, he was necessary for the city, and more importantly, if he went down, so would Clancy.

And nobody wanted that, least of all Clancy wiggum himself.

“so, why’re ya here, Clance?” said the mayor in his friendly tone (or what _he_ thought was friendly), choking the response of ‘don’t call me Clancy’ and said “we have a problem, sir”

“uh-uh, is snake out again?” said the mayor, playing with his phone as he said that.

Clancy clenched his jaw and said through his teeth, “no, sir. Snake is in his cell, as is Terwilliger, the scapegoat is out of prison” the fat politician said “so find him!”

Clancy closed his eyes, wishing he could _just_ get away from this. “we can’t sir. He was released yesterday”

Quimby dropped his phone, “ _WHAT_?” he snapped, “I thought he had a life sentence!”

“it was three years, sir. You were hoping someone would kill him in prison. What are your orders now?”

He sighed, “Clancy, my young friend, ‘Killed in prison’ is keyword for _you_ killing him in prison. Just get out of my sight. I’ll contact you myself, when I have an idea”

As Clancy Wiggum left, he paid no attention to the secretary saying “have a nice day, sir!”

If he had, he would’ve noticed the shocked eyes, shudders of stress, and twitching fingers. He might’ve even noticed the Audio recording program that was open in her PC monitor.

All he could think of were the beers he was going to drink at Moe’s.

* * *

Two months later, at the beginning of the college year, Lisa and Bart left for two separate colleges, one for Yale, Connecticut, and the other for a few miles off Springfield, in Shelbyville territory,

As it happened, you couldn’t really apply for Yale with eight C- reports and expect to be accepted.

Bart’s underachieving persona had finally thrown a real obstacle in his life, but no mater, it wasn’t like a _Harvard_ or _Yale_ graduate were going to return to Springfield (he’d checked with martin, actually. He wasn’t), Lisa, of course, was the exception. She didn’t have the social ties or experience necessary to get into the central government.

“so, homer, this is the end” said Bart to his dad, the man smiled nostalgically, “oh, cheer up, son! The state university isn’t that far from town, we might even visit you!” marge grumbled, and he said, without knowing why, “D’oh!”

Lisa said “dad, will you at least _try_ not to embarrass us in the public?” and Bart was really waiting for Maggie to make pacifier sounds, only to realize his thirteen-year-old sister was hugging him, and whispering “I’m gonna miss you!”

“relax, megs! It’s just a few miles away, you could actually bike the way, it’s just over the lemon tree!” he snickered, “besides, I’ma be back in a few years, it isn’t that long!”

As marge and homer said their goodbyes to Lisa, the two siblings hugged each other one last time, and Lisa said “good luck” to Bart.

He smiled genuinely, and said “I don’t think you’re gonna need the luck I’d wish. So…have fun?”

He said, and left. One to the airport, and the other to his dad’s car.

They both had destinies to start fulfilling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, i know. but the next one (an interlude chapter) will be coming right up.  
> the 'clueboard' sequence is something that's gonna return for a few times, it's basically Bart reviewing everything he knows about the case (and it will be, of course, completed about the time our _culprit_ goes to trial against Bart.)


	8. Interlude: Bart's Origin story I

After an exhausting day of school, dealing with Skinner, Krabapple, Willie and Nelson (who _really_ thought Bart didn’t know he was still a bully), Bart finally reached home.

Without even _trying_ to be quiet, he stomped off to his room, with a muffled “ _Quiet Bart_ ” from Maggie and a grunt from Mom.

He opened the door and took three steps inside, when the door closed by itself.

Bart thought _huh?_ And turned around, hands made into fists, and dropped into a fighting stance, until he noticed it was just Lisa.

“Bart” said Lisa in a tone that yelled ‘I don’t wanna do this, but I have to, so don’t make it worse’.

Bart said “Why _hello_ Lisa, what can I do for you?” in a jovial tone he knew she hated.

She said “I have a question, and I need you to answer me. _Truthfully_.”

He answered “alright…” hesitantly, when she asked, stressing on every word “why do you act so dumb?”

Bart said “huh?” “yes, exactly that. We _all_ know you’re not what you pretend to be! You’re almost as smart as _I_ am!”

He said “there’s a reason, Lis’. But I’m not sure you want to know it”

She said “i want answers!”

He raised an eyebrow (or tried, he couldn’t do it and both his eyebrows rose at once), “you want answers?”

She rolled her eyes, already knowing where this was going to, “I want the truth”

He snapped “you can’t _handle_ the truth!”

Chuckling at the scene he’d remade, thinking he was so smart (even if Lisa didn't), he continued “but seriously, the answer can be summarized in two sentences: I’m don’t want to be you. I want _revenge!_ ”

She said “what do you mean by that?”, in a hurt tone that he knew was fake, she continued “what’s wrong with me?”

He said “nothing” he rose his hands in a soothing manner, “there’s nothing wrong with you. I meant it in another way” “then explain!”

He sighed, “you already plan to go to Yale or Harvard. You’ve been saying that ever since you learned they existed. You don’t plan to stay _here_ , and as such, it doesn’t matter what everyone thinks of you.” He shrugged, “you can find your happiness somewhere else.”

“huh?”

He sighed, for a girl with an IQ of 159, Lisa could be so dumb when she wanted to. “I’m going to stay _here_. The people I go to school with are going to be the ones I work with and/or for. Can you imagine any of our schoolmates hire a boy like _Martin_?” he said, “that’s why we’re all like this. Dad, who was supposedly a mathematical genius became this highschool drop-out who works for _Burns._ Maggie, who’s been raised near you and me has become a normal kid, and Mom’s just a homemaker. Though I can’t understand _why_ she chose dad, she’s happy. You’re not”

She frowned, “What? i _am!_ ” he rolled her eyes, “I’m supposed to be the nihilist, and _you’re_ the one who gets depression every other month. How can you even _think_ you’re a happy teen?”

He frowned, “though, I suppose I _am_ going to become a bald lazy ass like dad and grampa. If the ‘Simpson Gene’ trump they all believe is actually true.”

She nodded, “I can understand. However,” she stopped, “ _Wait!_ You said something about _revenge_ too!”

He laughed nervously, “what? _me?_ You’ve heard wrong!”

She deadpanned “I have it on paper, Bart. Just tell me. You know what’ll happen if you don’t”

He sighed, “you know, they already explained it once. Just ask mom!”

And huffed, turning his back to her and began changing.

Noting the evident dismissal, she left the room.

Mom was free now, maybe _she_ could answer her questions.

* * *

Two minutes later, she went to Mom, “mom, tell me what happened when bart went to school”

She sighed, “alright honey,” she sat, motioning for her to sit too, then said “it was just about when you got your first saxophone. Bart was a boy of six, excited to finally get out of Ms. Sinclair’s hairs and go to school, so he could finally learn”

She snickered, _yeah, right_. Marge protested “Hey! You were just three! you might not remember it, but _I_ do.” And added a bit quietly, “and I think so does Bart”

She said “it was just then. He, Milhouse, the twins and Nelson were inseparable back then, best of friends. Until Nelson met Jimbo, and the twins decided hanging with Milhouse was just ‘uncool’. They were all happy to finally go to this school everyone talked about.”

Then, she said in a somber tone, “until he met his first grade teacher, Ms. Sorlemu, who Bart always liked to call ‘Sour Lemon’. An old bitter lady with a cynical way of thinking and a snarky attitude towards the children. She just decided bart was going to be a nobody in the future, and said ‘oh what the heck, why wait until future?’” she lowered her head, “and began tormenting him. in a matter of months, he almost went suicidal! Think about it, a boy of _six_ going suicidal!” she continued, “by the time I’d learnt about the teacher, and from _Milhouse’s_ mom no less, Skinner had already decided the same, and even if indirectly, allowed Sorlemu to do as she wanted. Bart decided to be the class clown, and you know bart, if he puts his mind to something, he doesn’t stop at half. In a matter of months, his grades decreased to B, C, D, and in the fourth grade, with another teacher like Sorlemu, F.”

She thought, _but Revenge?_ Then, it all clicked. She remembered Sorlemu, the woman had quit teaching by the end of the year, and after it got out how she acted towards her students, got banned from teaching for life. And Skinner, oh poor Skinner had been fired five times, four of which were completely bart’s fault.

He’d basically declared war on school, and even though pointless, he’d made life hell for everyone who’d made him become that.

Oh, and bart was right, Mom (and dad), _had_ talked about this, back when her first saxophone had been destroyed by bart.

She shrugged, all this was pointless. Bart _might’ve_ said it was all part of a plan, but he wasn’t right. He _couldn’t_ be right. intentionally dropping one’s grade was never the answer.

* * *

Up in his room, Bart was sitting on his bed, hugging his legs as he shivered.

He’d not thought of that motherf*cker in years.

**_“F, idiot! And I promise that’s all you’re ever gonna see!”_ **

_‘well, joke’s on you, Sour Lemon! You might’ve made life hell for me, but I took away_ all _you had!’_ he thought, before shuddering and stopping.

He sighed, just two more years. Two more years and he would finally be rid of them. Be rid of them all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one, i must note that the views bart has on not studying are not mine. since i don't live in a supposedly small town like springfield, and if i did, i would do all i could to leave it.  
> two, the bad teacher part is semi-canon. i've decided to choose some of the past/future stories for this story, and change their place in the time table, (supposedly, Milhouse's birthday party is where the whole 'you have talent too!' scene in **_barthood_** happens.)  
>  in this universe, the teacher you saw (and wasn't named) is partly the reason bart is a menace.

**Author's Note:**

> as you can see, Bart (who's basically the only important character we've seen so far) is not as funny or easy-going as canon Bart. this version is an idiot who thinks he was imprisoned for no reason. it'll be some time before he can find proof he was actually framed (even if he knows it himself)  
> another thing, the sort of Fourth-wall breaking you saw (if you read this) is something that'll continue.  
> please, comment. every author loves getting comments.  
> until next time.


End file.
